Page 50 of Sold to My Ex's Brother
As we follow Artem into the bar ahead of us, the night sky dimming above, I look up and send out another prayer to Anton. Because God knows, I need him right now.
And I don’t know if he is going to make it in time to stop the hell that his brother wants to unleash on me.
24
ANTON
I drawup outside the auction house just as it is getting dark, turning the engine off and sitting there in my car for a moment.
She’s inside. I know she is.
I scan the area ahead of me, using the cover of darkness to disguise the recon I’m currently carrying out. There are two men on the door, both holding guns, but I can’t see any other security—I would guess that most of it is focused on the girls, making sure that they do not get a chance to escape. Or maybe they have already broken their spirits enough that they don’t have to worry about keeping them under wraps...
My men tracked the movements of the small fleet of vehicles that left the abandoned office building to this place, just outside the city; a building that you would never think to look for, unless you had good reason, a large wooden cabin buried in the forest that looks like it belongs in some twisted version of a fairytale.
I lift my phone, shoot a text to the men who are currently waiting for my command. I will take out the two on the door, and then go inside, slipping through the darkness to find the roomwhere the auction is being held. I’ve got a better chance of going undetected if I enter alone, and I don’t intend to draw any more attention to myself than I need to. I will have my men surround the building, so anyone trying to flee will be met with the fate they so dearly deserve.
I climb out of the car once I have affirmed the order, and raise my gun, firing two shots off in quick succession. With the silencer on the weapon, you almost wouldn’t know I had made a move at all, if it hadn’t been for the two guards sinking down to the ground, blood spattering the walls behind them.
I step over their bodies and put a hand to the door – it’s locked. Turning to the guards, I search through their pockets until I find a keycode and tap it into the pad next to the door before I step inside. In the distance, I can hear engines approaching, my men wasting no time in doing what needs to be done.
Inside, I can hear the low buzz of conversation in the distance, a sure sign I’m on the right track. I make my way through the corridors, all lined with dark wood panelling but no other decoration. As though it wants to remain as anonymous as possible, this place, to make sure there is no chance of getting caught out.
But there is something else in the air, too, an anticipation that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Anyone who comes here, they come here for something impossibly dark, to revel in the kind of dehumanization that makes this underworld tick.
And, as for my part in this, I have to put a stop to it before it goes any further.
The sound grows louder, until I reach the end of a corridor that turns off to what must be the main area. I peer around it briefly—two guards on the doors here, too, and both of them are armed. I’m going to have to get rid of them if I want to make it inside, but I need to split them up to do that.
I take a few steps back, looking around to see what I can use to make a noise and attract their attention. I settle on slapping my hand into the wood panel next to me, sending a shudder through the wall, and then I lift my gun, train it at the turn of the corridor, and wait.
“You hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“That sound.”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
I take a deep breath. Just keep steady, and everything is going to be fine.
“I’m going to check it out. I heard something. I’m sure I did...”
I hear footsteps closing the distance between us, and then a man appears at the end of the corridor—he sees me pointing the gun at him, parts his lips in shock, but before he can get a word out, I fire off my shot, blasting him through the chest and sending him crashing back into the wall behind me.
“What the?—”
I rush out the other end of the corridor and take another shot, killing the man on the door. The silencer has worked its magic, but I can’t leave their bodies here, the risk of someonestepping out and spotting them and realizing that they had been compromised was far too strong for that.
I tuck my gun away and pull their limp bodies into a small room attached to the corridor, pushing the door shut and wedging it there with a doorstop. Should hold for now—dat least as long as I’m going to need to pull this thing off...
I head for the door, pressing a hand into it and opening it just a few inches. And, sure enough, on the other side, just as I suspected, the men are gathered for the auction. It’s the same set-up as the place I went to in the city, the tables scattered around, lighting low, nobody wanting to be seen here. The soft clink of glasses occasionally rises over the conversation, and it’s almost peaceful.
The calm before the storm.
I step inside and slip to a table at the very back of the room, keeping my head down and my gaze trained on the floor. I don’t want to attract any attention, not yet, not until I know my men are in position. Beneath the table, I pull out my phone, and send a message to Ilya.
On my mark, send the men in.
